


Family Traditions

by Nenalata



Category: Harvest Moon, Story of Seasons: Trio of Towns
Genre: Barbecue, Family Fluff, Farmer/Hector tag is if you want to see it, Fishing, Found Family, Gen, Summer, easily ignored otherwise, you just have to squint at the right angle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24691234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenalata/pseuds/Nenalata
Summary: Westown had been a far lonelier place before Holly had shown up, and Hector knew he wasn't the only one to think so.Written as part of the Bokumono Gift Exchange on twitter/tumblr!
Relationships: Colin & Hector, Farmer & Colin, Farmer & Hector, Farmer/Hector (Trio of Towns)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: Bokumono Exchanges





	Family Traditions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBeckster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeckster/gifts).



> Surprise to TheBeckster! I'm your (very, very late) gift writer! I hope you enjoy a bit of Hector and Colin feels, because those two are some of my favorite characters in maybe the entire series.

Another splash, and Hector half rose from his lawn chair, ready to dive into the river to save his drowning son.

“I’m all right!” Colin assured him, high-pitched words tumbling over each other. “I just—I just lost the fish again, Pa.”

Hector sank back down, huffing in disapproval to mask his concern. He went back to whittling, as if he hadn’t, for an awful moment, worried another family member had been swept out of his life. “Gotta stand your ground, son.”

“I—I know!” Colin insisted. “These fish keep takin’ my bait. Pa, you reckon they’re hungrier than us?”

These last few seasons, the Westown river had been flowing cleaner and livelier than it had since—since Colin was born. Hector figured the fish were eating better than ever. He shook his head, even though Colin, still plonked by the riverbank, wasn’t looking his way. “You don’t have the bait on right. That’s all.”

“I’m no good at this. I can’t do anythin’ right at all.”

 _Here he goes_.

“Takes time to master a craft,” Hector grunted before the tears crackling in Colin’s voice could spill. “Takes patience.”

Silence from the riverbank. Cicadas rasped in the trees above them, hidden away in thick, dark leaves. Sunlight lasted longer these days, but dinnertime never changed its hour. And Hector’s stomach was starting to gnaw itself at the edges. He tried to remind himself of his own _patience_ , too.

“Pa,” Colin started to say. Hector grunted for him to continue, scraping his whittling knife along the thin strip of wood. “Did you have to…take time with yer whittlin’? For me and my appliqués?”

“Yep,” Hector said. He set aside the finished barbeque skewer and reached for the next strip of wood.

“Does that make whittlin’ those skewers easy now?”

“Yep.”

More silence. Sure didn’t sound like any fishing was getting done over there.

“Won’t have much use for these here skewers if ya don’t catch us somethin’ to skewer,” Hector reminded him, and with a squeak of dismay, Colin rebaited his line.

Their family barbeque was shaping up to be a good one, if Colin ever managed to get his rear in gear and catch them at least one hefty-sized fish. There was nothing like the clean summer taste of roasted carp, his ma’s macaroni salad, and coleslaw from Frank’s last spring cabbage crop. Marco said he might make it down, but Hector knew his hip had been hurting from last night’s rain. Frank had canceled, too, since one of his ewes was due for a new lamb and he was worried, as her last birth had been a rough one.

But the menu was still shaping up right fine, and if their yearly barbeque was just going to be him, his ma, and his son? Well, Hector couldn’t complain at all.

“Having fun out here?”

Hector only just managed to stamp down on his alarm. Good thing, too: this whittling knife had a taste for careless fingers. Holly, the other farmer, stood smiling above him. Apparently, she had decided to make use of the good summer weather: a fishing rod was slung over one shoulder and a fishing pail tight in her grip.

“Holly,” he greeted her. Holly’s smile grew, like he’d shown more enthusiasm than he had. She turned towards the river, shading her eyes against the glaring sunset even under her wide-brimmed hat.

“You’re not out there with him?” she asked, pointing to Colin. Hector huffed and shaved a piece of bark a little too roughly.

“Gotta learn how to do things on his own.”

“Oh, I—I didn’t mean to be rude,” Holly hurried to say. Hector glanced up again, surprised to see an embarrassed flush dusting her cheeks. “He’s a smart kid!”

Huh. Why in the world would she be feeling awkward about that? Hector furrowed his brows, which only served to make Holly fidget more. The hard-cut bark shaving drifted off his corduroy pants and onto his boot, and— _oh_. In the echoes of his memory, his voice _had_ sounded defensive…

“Didn’t mean to be rude myself,” Hector half-apologized. “Good of you to be concerned for him, farmer.”

“It’s Holly by now, isn’t it?” she smiled again, and when he only grunted, she seemed to take that as an excellent excuse to plop herself on a log next to the freshly-dug firepit. And she didn’t seem to need to say anything more than that. No comments on the weather. No mention of the unused fishing gear in her hands. No chit-chat of nothing.

Instead, they sat in silence. No, not silence: the cicadas still sang their cacophonous melody; the river still gurgled; Colin still sighed every time a splashing fish broke free. Even the rhythmic scraping of his whittling knife on wood felt like it could say more about this fine summer air than Hector could put into words.

“Sorry I ain’t much of a conversationalist,” Hector did finally feel the need to say. Now it was Holly’s turn to jerk from her peaceful perch on the log.

“Sure you are,” she said with enough conviction Hector wanted to believe her. “You just say what needs telling, that’s all.”

True enough, but _now_ Hector had no idea what to say to _that_. Better to keep an eye on Colin now anyway; he’d finished plenty of skewers for the barbeque he hoped still would happen. Hector set them all down and tucked his whittling knife back in his belt. As his eyes drifted towards his son, tugging on another splashing line like he was saving a dog from a well, movement in Holly’s general vicinity proved her eyes were doing the same.

Just in time, too: with a whoop of triumph, Colin yanked his first prize from the water. “Look, Pa!” he yelled, whirling around with it still on the hook, _not_ in the pail.

“Colin, ya gotta—”

Colin caught sight of Holly’s proud gaze, and _of course_ , all that jubilance fizzled out of him, replaced by that paralyzing timidity that he wasn’t yet managing to break. He fumbled with the line, with the hook, with the bait, and the fish leapt back into the safety of its watery home once more.

“Colin.”

Hector never could figure out how to make his sighs more of an exhale than a growl.

Colin sniffed. “Pa…Pa, Miz…Miz Holly, I…I c-can’t, I didn’t mean no—”

“You did really great, Colin!” Holly interrupted him with so much gentleness the glistening shine left Colin’s huge, miserable eyes. “You almost had it.”

“Yeah, yeah, almost…” Colin repeated. But right away, his lip trembled. “B-but I couldn’t right manage—”

“That just means you’ll get it next time! Come on then. Can I help out?” Holly was already rising from the log almost before Colin started nodding. She picked up her rod and pail again and joined him by the riverbank, telling him in soft tones how he didn’t have the bait on right. Softer and more patiently than Hector had managed. Colin kept nodding along with each of her instructions, wrapping his line _finally_ the correct way and letting her fix his stance. Holly kept him steady, hands on his back just brushing his shoulders. Distant enough Hector doubted Colin could feel it. Close enough she could catch him if he stumbled.

Hector only realized he’d been staring at them far too long when Holly glanced over her shoulder, fixing him with a goofy smile and a merry little wave. And _of course_ his immediate response was to scowl and look away. Right away, he wished he could turn back and make some sort of apologetic acknowledgement back, maybe even a hand raised of his own, but Holly had her back turned to him and was helping Colin slowly, slowly reel what seemed like a promising catch from the far end of the river.

It was safe now to scowl in private, then. Hector busied himself with collecting stones for the firepit so he couldn’t dwell on any lingering embarrassment.

Colin squeaked something incomprehensible from this distance. “Good work, Colin, you almost have it,” Holly’s lilting response drifted over even to where Hector was rustling about for proper-sized rocks. A smile, a true smile twitched on Hector’s lips, when Colin exclaimed something back, no longer timid or ashamed.

Westown had been a far lonelier place before Holly had shown up, especially in this part of town. It wasn’t _just_ Holly who’d moved in, sure: plenty of new faces had rolled on in, too, either on vacation or to set up new shops. Hector tossed the rocks towards the firepit and began arranging them in a neat, orderly circle. A splash, two cheers, and rapid-fire chitchat alerted him of Colin’s very first catch.

Still. For all Westown’s new liveliness— _and_ Tsuyukusa _and_ Lulukoko, so he’d heard—Hector knows this town’s all the better for having Farmer Holly in it now. It just wouldn’t be the same without her, without all these new fresh crops, these new fresh friends from far-flung faces, these new fresh emotions shining on his son’s face Hector had never seen blossom so quickly.

It’d do Colin some good to hear that, he reckoned. Holly too, of course. But because Hector’s mouth was too hungry to be capable of politeness or praise, what came out instead was, “Y’all gonna be done soon, or do we gotta roast up nothin’ but macaroni?”

“Um,” Colin called back, but he cut off his own excuses with another excited cry and began reeling in another fish. Holly stepped back even more, letting Colin claim a fully independent victory over nature. She tucked her hair behind her ear under her hat and smiled so big at Hector he froze in place.

“Probably just one more,” she said while Colin’s defeated foe joined the last in the pail. “He tempted two big old beauties! Plenty of good stuff on them, I’d say.”

Hector grumbled and mumbled and fiddled with the kindling until she went back to watch Colin’s confidence grow. Just within his earshot, the tell-tell screech of the screen door announced his ma’s approach.

“What’s takin’ y’all so long?” she huffed in lieu of greeting. Hector prepared to defend himself _and_ his son, but before he could formulate any sort of response, Holly and Colin’s voices drew attention to them both and away from any of his excuses. “Well, aren’t _they_ babbling like a brook,” Ma mused, crossing her arms over her chest.

Why she wore a cardigan even in this stifling summer heat, Hector would never dare to ask. “Brook’s babbling full of fish,” he said. “Reckon they’ll be done soon.”

Ma cackled. “Promises, promises. Oh, that sweet Colin of yours…”

“He’ll keep it,” Hector said. “Boy’s in good hands. Can see that plain as day.” He stood up, stretched, and headed towards the house to collect the rest of the barbeque spread and plates.

“Hm.” Ma was still watching the two fishing experts perform their duty when Hector returned, juggling far too many bowls, jugs, and tableware than safe. Fortunately, Ma didn’t notice, which meant she couldn’t lecture him. No, all she said was, “This town really feels like some kinda family now, don’t it?” and Hector had lucked out by just finishing setting their cornucopia in a proper, less-dangerous array on the biggest felled log.

Hector, a taciturn man on a good day and a surly one the rest of the time, simply had no reply to _that_. Fortunately, Ma didn’t seem to need one, because _now_ came the lecture on how much he’d carried himself, why couldn’t he just ask for even the littlest bit of help, she’s not _so_ feeble she can’t take care of her son even a little more…

By the time Ma had worn herself out with her affectionate nagging, Hector had finished lighting the fire and had begun gathering the fresh skewers. “Gotta soak these,” he said needlessly.

Ma sighed. She sounded just like him sometimes. Even Hector could tell. “Then you got all these here dishes out too soon. Flies’ll be at ‘em before you know it.”

“Two of ‘em’ll be done soon, I said,” Hector protested again. Ma, for some strange reason, smiled, soft and warm. She patted his arm without commentary.

“Kids,” she called over to the riverbank duo, “don’t keep your elders waitin’ too long, y’hear? I’m so famished I may just waste away!”

“Gram!” was Colin’s distressed cry, but Holly shushed him and placed his hands back on the reel.

“Don’t go teasin’, Ma.”

“Boy’s gotta learn manners from _someone_.” Ma patted his arm again with another twinkle in her eye. “Sure didn’t learn ‘em from _my_ son. Didn’t even invite her to dinner, did ya? Terrible manners as ever.”

“Ma!” Hector exclaimed, wincing as he realized he’d sounded _exactly_ like Colin, tone and pitch and all. Ma wheezed another laugh. He cleared his throat as if he could muster up his dignity that way and almost muttered something about where’d she think he _learned_ his manners from, if not his _own_ parent…

But one look Colin’s way, with his own expression and gleeful, beaming smile at Holly while they wrangled the last fish into the bucket made Hector and his deep scowl decide to keep his trap shut. It had served him well in the past, and it’d serve him well again.

“C’mere, you two,” he called over to them instead. They obeyed, Holly reminding Colin not to walk too fast with a bucket of still-wriggling fish. “Sit down,” he said, and brought out a second knife. “Me and Holly, we’re gonna show you how to clean a fish, aren’t we? Family barbeque tradition.” Holly’s eyes widened, lips parting surely to make some sort of protest. Hector mustered all his strength and continued, “Won’t hear nothin’ to the contrary. You’re family, ain’t ya?”

“Yes,” Holly agreed after only a heartbeat’s worth of silence. “Yeah, we are.”


End file.
